


perhaps, perhaps, perhaps

by liese_l



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Fluff, Mostly Fluff, RoseKan - Freeform, there is kissing i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liese_l/pseuds/liese_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After becoming enamoured with one of Rose's Earth movies about dancing, Kanaya convinces Rose to teach her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	perhaps, perhaps, perhaps

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, "Oh! What about a fic about Rose teaching Kanaya how to dance. Like the waltz or the tango?" over at meteoricgirlfronds.tumblr.com!

All day, Kanaya’s been rifling through your and Dave’s combined collection of Earth movies, separating them into piles of Would Watch and Hell No. The Hell No pile is significantly higher than the Would Watch, which you are sure has something to do with Dave having a much larger collection than you (but both of yours pale in comparison to John’s). The tallest piles are wobbling precariously on the plush carpet, and you’re distracted from your book by the vague sense they are going to topple onto Kanaya’s head, and she is going to be thoroughly embarrassed and run into her room and not come out for a week.   
“Kanaya,” you say, and she turns from her work to look questioningly at you.  
“Yes Rose?”  
“You might want to make the piles smaller.”  
“Ah, yes,” she glances at the one closest to her that looks like it is one bump away from collapsing. “You are right.”  
She carefully removes the top most DVDs and places them down and places them on the floor. She goes back to concentrating on the task, and you can’t help but watch her face. Her tongue slightly pokes out between her fangs, her brows furrow and you hear her muttering under her breath in Alternian. Her eyes are sharp and focused and she’s only ever this way around you and you love it.

Soon later, you lose track of time because you eventually get back into your book, Kanaya is standing in front of you with a red DVD case in her hand.  
“Rose, would you care to watch this with me?”   
You place your book in your lap and take the case from her hand.  
“Strictly Ballroom,” you say. “Good choice.”  
When you were a child, your mother had decided to sit you down and force you to watch the entirety of Baz Luhrmann’s red curtain series, and Strictly Ballroom was by far your favourite. You’d taken up ballroom dancing for some time after that, until you grew out of it when you hit your teenage years.   
You smile at her. “Of course I will. You picked one of my favourites.”  
Kanaya’s eyes light up, and you can see she is fighting the urge to jump up and down like a wriggler.   
You drag one of the nearby overstuffed loveseats over to the where the TV is, between two bookcases, and Kanaya fiddles with the DVD player until she gets it working. 

The movie is just as good as you remember, but Kanaya is absolutely taken by it. She leans forward, and she gasps and tisks at the various costumes, and when Fran and Scott dance in the final scene, you see her tear up a little.   
“We didn’t have anything like that on Alternia,” she says once it’s over, but her eyes are far away and you can almost see the cogs whirring in her brain.  
“Rose, do you know how to do this?” she turns to you, looking hopeful.  
You smile. “I took lessons up until I was twelve.”  
Kanaya lights up (not literally, she’s finally gotten control of that), and she jumps up. “Rose, will you teach me?”  
“Of course,” you say, grasping Kanaya’s outstretched hands. She blushes at her own enthusiasm, but you only smile tenderly. Kanaya chews her bottom lip before saying, “But I need a proper outfit.”  
You chuckle. You can see her comparing patterns and fabrics in her mind, and you let go off to her room to plan and sew.

In the weeks following, you go through your collection to find your instructional DVDs and watch them to reteach yourself. More than once, someone walks in on you practicing the steps, and you shoot them your darkest glare before they can laugh. 

It’s some weeks later when you’re in your room writing when you hear Kanaya’s familiar rhythmic knock against your door, and you tell her to come in.  
You hear a swish of fabric as your door creaks open, and you turn to see her wearing a brilliant red flamenco dress.   
“Oh my,” you breathe out, because she looks truly stunning. The skirt is tiered with ruffles and tastefully sequined, and bodice leaves a gap at her midriff that is covered with grey mesh. The bodice itself sequined like the skirt, and is low cut and cups her breasts perfectly, and the long sleeves are cuffed with gold rope work. She has affixed a single red flower to her hair. You jump up to examine the dress thoroughly and of course, it’s as beautiful and intricate as all her other work.  
Kanaya blushes. “I thought if we are going to do such a beautiful human activity, I ought to look the part.”  
You cup her cheeks and pull her in and kiss her, and you feel her cheeks glowing with warmth, and you love her so very much in this moment.

You pull away from her and take her hand and lead her to the centre of the room. You find one of your Latin music CDs, and start to play it.  
“Since you’re dressed for it, how about the tango?” you say. You place Kanaya’s arm around your waist, and place your own on her shoulders.  
“I am leading, so you follow me. Whatever I do, you follow.”  
Kanaya nods. You’re a bit rusty so you move slowly, placing your left foot forward onto you heel. Kanaya follows you, and you move your feet to the beat of the music, and you trip up a few times and it’s a little awkward at first, but as you dance more you remember. Kanaya is a quick learner, if a little stiff, and you have the basic dance pattern down soon enough, but your dance teachers always told you that dance is like a language: it evolves, and there is more than one way to speak it. So you try to incorporate aspects of your own into it, and Kanaya follows you almost fluidly. It’s been so long since you did this, and you remember why you started in the first place.

Kanaya is flushed and you’re sure you are too, but this is probably the most fun you’ve had in ages. You’re both warm in each other’s hands and you can’t help but twine your fingers behind her neck and reach up and kiss her. And then the dancing stops and you just stand there, leaning against each other, and everything in that moment is perfect.


End file.
